Pretty
by hopelessromantic1470
Summary: Mags' complete story, starting at her Reaping (they all do... ;)) And how she became the character in Catching Fire... contains violence, betrayal, illness, romance, and an evil government. You should definitely read this.
1. The Reaping

**Well, I liked Mags, and we don't really know very much about her, so I decided to write this, her life story... **

People always told me I was a pretty girl. Ever since I was ten, six years ago when the Dark Days ended. I suppose I am, long hair, perfect skin, not an ounce of fat marring my beautiful frame, and my best feature, my eyes, which sparkle blue like the ocean. I don't suppose it's that surprising all the boys in my class spend half their time just staring at me. Especially that fisherman's son, the one with the green eyes. He doesn't look too bad himself, and I might quite like him if he wasn't from the poorer part of Seven and had a slight smirk when he smiled, like he was constantly thinking something else in his head when he told you something. I don't like that, for all he is handsome.

This is my fourth reaping, and to tell the truth I'm a little scared. Well, more than a little. The girl from Seven last year came home in pieces, and her head wasn't the part they cut off first. I can't even remember her name.

My parents don't like The Hunger Games, none of the adults do, but of course they can't say anything or we'll become like Thirteen. My own parents just treat me like a child to be protected, even though I'm sixteen already and old enough to be married. Honestly, they treat me like one of my mother's old porcelain dolls, the ones she hides in her wardrobe and I'm not supposed to know about. Something fragile to be taken care of, their only child, only daughter. They're also the only people to still call me Mags, like I were some toddler. It's like they've forgotten my name is actually Margaret.

My teacher says I'm vain. What rubbish. I just know my own strengths. I'm a brilliant swimmer, even better than that fisherman's boy and his stupid brother. Not one of the other girls can hold a candle to me.

I like sitting here, down by the ocean, especially on Reaping days. No one else knows how to get here. You have to follow the beach line down towards the rockpools, and when you're a third of the way over them, to where the coastline curves slightly, you get this little ledge, completely hidden by the cliff and completely dry, and if you crawl back as far as you can there's a tiny sort of hollow place. Nothing's there of course, but it's nice to know that maybe you could have something there, something only you would know about, like my mother's dolls.

Looking out, there's only one boat, a small, rather dilapidated sort of thing, it's one sail flittering feebly in the wind. Two people are on it, and looking closely I can see it's that fisher boy and his older brother, the one who had a baby at seventeen. No doubt fisher boy will go the same way. Eerily, he looks over towards me with those strange green eyes, and just as quickly looks away so I'm left wondering if I'd imagined it. Looking at the sun, I know I should be going, the Reaping will start soon.

It takes a while to get back, and my mother is going frantic, as usual. I ignore her usual tears and make my way to my room, the one with the best view, of course, and put on my best dress. It does make me look lovely, but I hate pink. There's no time t find an alternative though, and not even time to properly do my hair, so it ends up just loosely curling around my shoulders, which I suppose looks quite nice anyway. Then it's time.

The courtyard is filled up already, all the 12-18 year olds in different sections. I wonder who will be chosen this year. Of course, a few of the older ones train for these Games, a new initiative some of the elders started to give us a chance against the Ones and Twos. It worked last year, our boy won, although he did cut his district mate, that poor girl, into pieces first. He never goes out in public anymore, just stays in that house in Victor's Village, cases of whisky going in and coming out empty. I would do the same. It's considered the lowest of the low to kill your own partner. Especially the way he did. The Capitol love him though, but then they love anyone who's vicious.

I register quickly and make my way to where the sixteen year olds stand, slipping in beside the two girls I know best, Lucie and Mara, both of them rather plain girls, no definition to either of them at all. I don't get on to thinking about their outfits though, because the escort is tapping the microphone for quiet. What was her name? Amanda? Anna?

The usual speech on the Dark Days begins, I mean, do they think we've all forgotten them already? Finally, it's time, and in the crowds I can see myself on the screen, my blonde hair setting me apart from the people around me. I smile radiantly, though inside I can feel my heart beating fast.

"Our female tribute for this year will be-"

A slight pause as her long fingers delve into the glass bowl, before finally catching the slip of paper and drawing it out. Another moment.

"Margaret Delaney" says the voice.

I look around me for the girl, and am met by endless pairs of eyes staring back at me. Then I realise, she just said my name.

I can see the Peacekeepers making their way towards me, obviously thinking they'll have to drag me, but I still have my pride. I walk in measured, dainty steps up to the stage, smiling hard. I know I have to make a good impression. Before I die, that is. I chance a look at the screen, and I'm glad to see I look as pretty as ever. Then I have to wait while she delves into the boys glass ball.

The name comes, and I see immediately she's picked the fisherman's boy. Wonderful. A few weeks in the Capitol alive and it had to be with him? He's clever though, that constant smirk proves it. He was one of the people to sign up for training.

He makes his way up to the stage just as calmly as I did, and I can hear vague wolf whistles from the girls. He is not that bad looking after all. Bronze hair, those green eyes.

We're told to shake hands.

He smiles at me, I have to return his gesture, though inside I'm working out all the ways to wipe that smirk off his face.

"You weren't listening to my name were you?" He says as we clasp hands, in a small whisper.

"I didn't see the point in remembering it." I return back, smiling sweetly.

That stupid smirk.

"Brandon Odair." He says, and we unclasp hands, before we are lead off the stage into the unknown.

**Well, I really like Mags, and I promise she won't remain a conceited, stuck up person for much longer. It is the Games after all... And Brandon Odair? Well, I always did think Finnick and Mags had something going on...**

**Please review!**


	2. Truth

**Okay, I'm hoping to update at least every other day, if not every day, but this may change...**

I didn't want to say goodbye to anyone, but I still had to. I was brought to the Justice building, the beautiful white marble building that overshadows every house in Four, and from there to the grandest room I'd ever seen in my life. Opulent rugs lay around two sofas, both made from a dark wood called mahogany and upholstered in cream fabric. There were no windows, but the endless paintings on the wall made up for the lack of a view. They wouldn't have wanted anyone seeing in to where the tributes were waiting, or a way for them to escape. Not like I'd be able to. Not with the entire building surrounded.

I sat down on the edge of the sofa, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. How my life, which albeit always at the mercy of the Capitol had been close to perfect, could have ended like this. How I could possibly be going into the Games. I thought of all the things I could do. The list was short, and at anything remotely sports based I was simply terrible. Looking across the room into the mirror, I realised the only thing I really had to defend me were my looks, and what would they be in an arena of bloodthirsty tributes?

I'd die in the bloodbath.

My breathing quickens. I was really going to die. Like that poor girl from last year, the one that I didn't even know the name of. Cut apart. Stabbed. Shot. So many ways to die.

The door opens, revealing my parents. My mother, sobbing her heart out. My father, with his hand around her. Untied in grief. They know I won't be coming home. I know I won't be coming home. I want to be angry at them, to shout and scream, but when I try I realise there's nothing I can say that would be enough, and the short minutes we have are spent simply holding each other on the sofa, before the Peacekeepers come again to take them away, both of them sobbing. I don't cry. No one is going to see me cry. Especially not that stupid Odair boy.

Then the Peacekeepers come for me.

They lead me away down the hall and out the back door, not the front, to where the train station lies. It takes only three minutes to reach the platform, I count in my head. The Odair boy stands at the platform, smiling into every camera he can find. Then the cameras are shoved into my face. I try to look straight ahead, like I always do, and eventually I get to the train, where the escort lady stands with fisher boy, and last year's Victor. She smiles, revealing teeth that are every colour of the rainbow, which she seems to think are pretty, because she carries on smiling as she introduces herself.

"My name is Anna Ellis," she says in a whimsical, high voice, before looking at us again, "but of course you already knew that,"

She laughs, in a voice even higher than when she's speaking, a false, over the top thing. I smile aloofly back at her, before taking her proffered hand and shaking only the fingertips. Capitol might be catching, after all. Fisher boy laughs for some reason and shakes her hand properly, idiot that he is. The Victor boy stares at us up and down, before he simply boards the train without saying a word. I glare after him, the rude little thing.

I decide to follow his example and flounce onto the train, making sure the cameras catch me at my right side, and find myself in a living area, even more extravagant than the Justice building, everything sleek, polished, seamless. Capitol. A place for someone like me.

Anna comes onto the train, still smiling with those ridiculous teeth showing.

"It's quite a shock isn't it, after living in Four your entire lives," She says brightly, looking around herself. "That's what I love about the Games of course, you can start off in one of the Districts but through the Games you can win honour, glory, respect. A good thing to teach, no?"

I stare at her. I can't believe that anyone could be so insensitive. Telling us the Games are so wonderful when the two of us are very likely to be killed by them. I open my mouth to say something but she continues.

"Martin adjusted very well, didn't you?" she says, directing her question towards the Victor boy. Martin. He's currently downing various shots he's poured out, and looks anything but adjusted. The Odair boy, Brandon, shakes his head slightly and walks down the corridor to where our rooms are. I stay here.

Anna seems to have stopped her little speech for now at least, so I walk over to Martin.

He looks up. "What the hell d'you want?" he says harshly, slurring his words together. "You're going to be Bloodbath. I can tell them a mile off. You pretty kids won't last a day." He turns back to his drinks.

I follow the Odair boy for once and walk away in disgust, trying my very best not to cry and to remember my position. Instead of turning into my room though, I find myself turning into his.

He's staring out the window of his cabin, to where the world is changing, rushing past. It can't have been long but we can't see the sea anymore. It's unsettling. I've ever been away from the sea before.

"That Victor boy seems to think we're doomed." I say haltingly, but the Odair boy doesn't turn.

"And that escort, Anna whatsit, have you ever met someone so self centred and callous-?" I begin, but he interrupts me suddenly, his eyes blazing.

"Yes, actually, you." He says roughly, glaring at me. "It may come as a shock, but the world doesn't revolve around you and your looks and how you feel all the time,"

I stare back in shock. No one has ever said that to me in my entire life. Ever. So I do what I refused to do before, and burst into tears, running away from that hateful room as fast as I can.

**Thanks for reading :D**


	3. Introductions

**I know it's been ages, and I am truly sorry. I literally have just had NO time to write, and when I did have time I couldn't write anything. Don't worry, this is always at the back of my mind, and my computer files, and I will be updating more often...I hope...**

I lie on my bed thinking. Thinking about what that awful boy said. It's not true, not one stupid word of it. For the first time, I'm pleased that I was reaped. Now I have the excuse for revenge; stealing his food, his parachutes, the Games are a perfect opportunity for vengeance. I stop my thoughts in their tracks, horrified at myself. Was I seriously just contemplating how to kill somebody? I feel the easy tears coming, and this time I let them fall. I feel so alone, away from my district. Of course I'm sad I'm not near my family but it pales in comparison to my district. The sea. I don't think I've ever been more than two miles away from the sea my whole life. My ears feel strange, missing the background noise of the waves, my nose missing the smell of salt. It's unsettling.

We're near to Capitol now, maybe only two or three hours away, and I still haven't eaten anything. After cursing that stupid Odair boy for putting me off, I walk out of my cabin and back to the main area. Sitting room I should call it. Actually it's more of a bar. Or a dining suite. I'll stick to area.

I nearly walk out again in disgust when I see that stupid boy has come in here, languishing on one of the sofas and talking to Martin.

Talking to Martin.

Against my better judgement, and only after nibbling some strange green fruit sort of thing that's labelled cucumber, I walk in measured steps across to the lounge area. The Odair boy has the cheek to look up at me and smile, our mentor simply returns his gaze to the polished mahogany coffee table.

"I thought you would stay in your room until we got there," the stupid boy says, twisting his legs around to leave more space on the sofa.

"I wouldn't want to deny you the pleasure of my company," I answer sweetly, sitting into the chair opposite him, next to Martin. Odair scowls at me and I allow myself to smile.

"So, what were you two talking so animatedly about?" I ask them both, taking time to glare at Odair.

"How quickly you're going to die," Martin says, and in the silence that follows he laughs almost manically, before knocking the glasses on the coffee table to the floor and starting to walk away from us.

"Like how quickly you killed that girl?" I say to him venomously, raising my eyebrows.

"The mouse has claws," his expressions darkens, "Don't talk about what you don't understand, girl," That last particular word he spits out, as if it was something dirty.

Behind me, Brandon shakes his head. Odair. Odair shakes his head.

"Do you even remember her name?" I press on anyway, anger coming into my voice as I suspect the answer.

Martin utters that same manic laugh and stares at me.

"Girl from District 4. Just like you're going to be." he tells me, speaking softly, now dropping his voice to a whisper. "Forgotten."

Then he turns around and leaves for good.

I barely have a second to process this before he starts shouting.

"Are you insane!" Odair virtually screams at me. "I spend the last few hours almost begging him to help us train, and then when he takes the bait you drive him off! Are you even more stupid than you look?"

I feel cold. I don't know why. I stutter as I answer. "He was drunk, he always is. He's, he's-"

"Our only chance at living in that arena!" he yells back.

I'm not accustomed to this, usually at the first sign of my tears people comfort me, offer me things, anything to make the pretty girl happy again.

"Why are you being so cruel?" I whisper, my face now drained of colour, and even as I try to stop them the tears start to fall down my cheek.

His expression softens and he comes nearer.

"I'm trying to help you."

"Help me?" I laugh, the same manic way Martin did.

"For my part," he tells me, turning away to look out the window at the passing landscape. We're in some sort of mountain range now, which is probably why it's gotten so cold. As if on cue, it gets warmer, the temperature obviously controlled by some machine.

"Well, what did he tell you?" I ask, my voice a bit stronger.

He doesn't even look at me.

"He said to win the Games, you have to make people like you. That gets you sponsors, which apparently I'll have no trouble getting."

"Well, you are gorgeous," I say, and then instantly regret it. I did not just tell the boy I'm plotting revenge on he's _gorgeous. _He looks around at me, half smiling.

"Not too bad yourself," he continues to smile.

"You know, you never actually introduced yourself to me, Margaret,"

"Well, seems from that you already know what my name is," I retort, but my anger is gone. "I'll see you later before we chop each other to bits, right?"

"Ray of sunshine aren't you?" He smiles and holds his hands up, "I'm a ray of sunshine!"

"You're an idiot."

"I'm Brandon, pleased to meet you too," He flops back down onto the sofa. "No point worrying about something you can't stop,"

I try to think of something witty but fail miserably. I take a few steps back.

"I'm Margaret. Like you didn't know that already."

He jumps up and holds out his hand.

"Pleased to meet you, Margaret,"

"Whatever."

But I shake his hand, and he whistles as I go back to my room.


	4. Meetings

**Again, I'm sorry it's taken so long. I will finish this eventually… When I get to drop Maths…**

"So now that we're friends, Mags, I guess that makes us allies," Brandon is telling me. I shrug.

"I guess,"

His face falls. "Don't you want to be?"

Damn. Done it again. "Of course I do, I'll need you!" Oh god that was even worse.

He raises his eyebrows.

"I mean, I'll need your help. After all I'm pretty useless at everything." There, that's true. At least half true anyway. I've found that I do actually want his company after all.

"Well then, we need to talk to Martin again, find out what he learnt," Brandon concludes, and I nod.

Just then, Anna comes into the room, sees us, and quite literally screams. I stare at her, wondering, not for the first time, if everyone from the Capitol is just inherently insane. She runs up to us, tottering about on her little heels, her stupid hair bouncing as she moves, now in tight orange curls.

"Why haven't either of you changed yet?" She spits out at us, her dyed purple eyebrows almost forming a straight line as she glares at us. "You can't go making first impressions in, in, that," Again, she spits out the last word as she stares at us up and down. I'm about to scream at her for being so insensitive when Brandon starts speaking.

"I'm so sorry Anna, it's just, being from a District and all, it's hard to know what's expected," He says smoothly in this gliding, innocent voice. I glare at him but he focuses his brilliant green eyes on Anna, complete with this stupid puppy expression.

She visibly softens. "That's quite alright Brandon dear; after all you both must be very overwhelmed by all of this." She pauses for a moment, simply staring at him for far too long with a strange, strange look until we hear a cough behind us. Martin.

"Do you really need to start staring at them like that already? He hasen't even won yet for God's sake," Martin slurs together, but I notice something in his eye. Pain? Anger? Whatever it is, Anna drops her head and scuttles off, muttering something about manners as she does so.

"Staring at me like what?" Brandon asks, his face confused.

Martin rolls his eyes, but he has another look on his face, almost uncomfortable. "Never you mind now, like I said, you haven't won yet. Right now, you both have outfits waiting on your beds, so go get changed and look pretty,"

Brandon continues to stare. "What's the big secret?"

Martin says nothing.

Brandon steps forward again, his height means he gains a good four inches over Martin, and the effect works.

"What's the secret?" He says again, carefully, almost threatening.

"Brandon-" I try to interject, but he cuts me off with a wave of his hand.

"What are you trying to say, huh? That Capitol likes looking at pretty tributes? Why? What are you saying?" Brandon says quietly.

"If you're so fond of the girl over there, don't let her win," Martin replies equally quietly, and a look passes between them. Understanding.

"Brandon?" I say, my voice cracking slightly. He turns around, his eyes wild, broken, and then he is calm.

"I'm not like him," He tells me, a promise, and Martin looks away.

He walks back, and together we go through the corridor until we reach the doors to our rooms. I stop him just before he walks in.

"What did he mean?" I say, and I can't hide the panic in my voice anymore.

Brandon looks at me, and then without warning envelopes me into a hug.

"He means the Capitol won't leave us alone if we survive," He whispers in my ear, and I can feel my body tensing from fear as he drops his arms and we both walk into our rooms.

I feel like crying. I don't. I'm stronger than they are. I turn to my bed and am greeted with a dark blue silk dress, the exact colour of my eyes. A dark green sash hangs around the waist before it flares out, it doesn't have sleeves, just some see through fabric hanging down loosely that matches the sash. Quickly, I slip off my own clothes and pull on this new garment, revelling in just how soft it is. It skims over my body, making me look even slimmer than I already am, and looking in the mirror all I can do is stare. I look like me, but better. More ethereal, more beautiful. Superior. Like I know I will win. I smile slightly as I leave my room.

"Ouch!" I hiss as I leave the room only to trip over Brandon's foot and fall flat on my face. Great. I pull myself up with as much dignity as I can, ignoring the deep laughter from down the hall that can only be Martin, and Brandon's smirk before he brushes part of the hair from my face. I look at him once as we come into the main compartment, now flooded with light as we enter the station. Then I look at him again and I can't help my mouth falling open. They've dressed him to be the exact mirror of me, a dark blue suit and a dark green shirt. He nods as I understand, and without any consultation simply holds out his hand. A choice.

I take it just as the doors open and we are mobbed by cameras flashing into our faces, hundreds of screaming Capitol people yelling our names, trying to touch us, wave at us. It's hideous. I clench his hand harder as we are led into the passage that will take us to the Training Centre. I keep my head up high and smile into the cameras as much as I can, trying to fight the ongoing battle in my stomach.

"Five more steps," Brandon whispers through his teeth as he continues his own charade of smiling and waving at the multicoloured people, some of whom look more like animals than humans. He's right, and soon we are inside. Anna pops up beside us from nowhere, beckoning me to go with her and Brandon to go with some Capitol lady. His stylist. I realise again that I don't want to be alone in this place, but I keep my smile on and follow Anna to a smallish room with a pedestal in the centre, the walls lined with bottles and a plinth by the side. Then she leaves, patting me on my shoulder as she goes.

I'm alone.

Gingerly, I walk and sit down on the plinth, the paper sheets feeling strange against my skin. I twist my hands over and over, something I've done since I was a child when I got nervous and try to calm my breathing.

The door opens, revealing three Capitol people dressed in the same light blue uniform. Two are women, the other a man, but it's hard to tell. Each of them have different shades of hair, the shorter woman has bright pink skin with golden swirls and the taller one has a completely scaled face, her nose small.

"Sweetie we're your prep team," The man announces, his mouth opening to reveal teeth patterned with blue and green eyes. "I'm Atton, and these two are Camra" He points at the taller woman, "And Naria," He points at the smaller one.

I stare at them just as they stare at me, before the pink one, Naria, comes over to me, tugging at my dress. My face burns red but they are so un human I comply, and for the next hour am treated to at least twenty different treatments. I stare up at the ceiling throughout, ignoring them completely for what seems like hours before they finish, standing back to admire whatever they've done to me before handing me a paper gown which I put on in merely a few seconds, eager to hide from them.

The door opens, revealing someone who looks surprisingly normal, at least by Capitol standards. The woman looks about mind twenties, with short cut dark red hair and grey eyes. Her eyeshadow is gold, matching her blouse, while she also wears severely cut black trousers. She smiles at the prep team.

"She's wonderful, thank you." She smiles at me but still speaks to them as she finishes, "You can go for now,"

Mercifully, the prep team scuttle through a side door I hadn't noticed into what look like a huge clothes room, chattering to each other.

"I'm Lena," She says, holding out her hand.

I take it nervously, "Margaret,"

"Are you scared?" Lena asks me directly, looking straight at me.

A moment passes. I nod. "Who wouldn't be?"

"Well, that's a good thing." Lena smiles at me.

I stare, anger rising, all her good impressions gone.

"No, no!" Lena says suddenly, "You mustn't take it like that! I just need to know more about you,"

"And how does knowing I'm scared tell you anything?" I spit out.

"If you had said you weren't you would have been lying. Now I know that you're honest. I also know that you tend to believe you're the smartest person in a room. I know that you hate people seeing you vulnerable. I know you hate Capitol." Lena smiles yet again. "It's my job to pay attention, to show them who you are,"

"Somehow I don't think they'd want to know I hate them," I tell her sarcastically.

"No. Maybe not." Lena looks at me for a moment. "So right now I'm thinking innocent with a hint of rebellion. A strong spirit,"

She walks over to one of the walls and taps it once. Abruptly a panel folds in on itself, and a rack of clothes shoots out. She picks a dress of the rail and holds it up for me to see.

"Something like this. Perfect for a lovely chariot ride,"

It's beautiful.

"Thank you," I whisper, and she slides it of the hangar to give to me.

**Okay, next chapter will bet the actual Chariot ride, training et, etc.**


	5. Revelations

**Hahahaha… I've dropped maths now so I basically have a bunch of free periods to get this done XD And lunch…And break…. Cause' I'm all obsessed now…**

I try to keep my eyes down as we make our way through the narrow passages towards the chariots. I don't want to stare at the other tributes. Not yet. Not for longer than I have to. I focus on running my hands up and down my outfit, but all the sequins do nothing to stop my palms sweating so I start waving them as I walk along, hoping I don't look too ridiculous.

"Relax, you look amazing," Lena says with a smile as she catches up with me. I've been walking too fast. Slowing down, I feel better, slightly. As well as I could be when I'm about to enter a room filled with doomed kids.

I'm one of them.

District One are predictably tall, muscular. Terrifying. The freaks that actually started Training Centre's for the Games after the rebellion failed. The boy is way over six feet, with small, darting black eyes that are now focussed on me. He looks me up and down once and smirks as he turns back to the girl and the District Two kids, obviously a team, again. A lump forms in my throat.

I scan the room eagerly to find the now familiar mop of bronze hair, but he's not here yet. Lena gives me another reassuring smile and I return it weakly, now horribly cold instead of warm. I'm clenching my teeth again. The other tributes look pretty average for the most part, skinny, but then we all are, District Six look tiny, two little scraps that barely qualify. Twelve year olds, both of them. The last twelve year old was in the First Games, I remember. Her companion cut her throat to spare her the horror of living longer. These two are sticking close to their stylists, as if they could protect them.

My eyes are caught by a tall girl with strawberry blonde hair that's cropped like a boy's. District Eight. She catches me looking and smiles at me. A genuine smile, not forced or faked. She looks funny, graceful. She and I might have been friends. Her companion has the same coloured hair, but not as tall, with a small, rat like face and pointed nose. I look away.

District Twelve are barely alive by the looks of them, emaciated wretches that won't last a day. Poor things are covered in coal dust and burned rags dyed dark red. The boy looks over at District One and Two and looks away just as quickly, almost afraid even to be looked at. I realise that in less than a week he'll be dead. My head is starting to hurt.

"Sorry I'm late," Brandon's naturally seductive voice rings from behind me. I spin round and stop myself from hugging him, not before noticing One and Two eyeing him up where they forgot me before. Brandon's noticed, but all he does is give them a quick nod before turning back to me.

"So, Em,-" He starts, then stops and stares at me properly.

"You look stunning," He says, still staring, "Almost as pretty as me,"

I push him playfully.

"Shut up Odair,"

He falls in step with me as we get to our chariot, and we don't say anything as we step up onto the small platform.

"One and Two seemed to like you," I venture, glancing sideways at him to gage his reaction. If anything, he looks annoyed I said it.

"The day I partner those lunatics is the day I lose my soul," He says curtly.

I nod. "They didn't seem to like me,"

I'm trying not to let the panic enter my voice as the chariots start moving towards the tunnel exit, my head determinedly high. After all, they've won nearly every year. If they don't like me, I'm just a target.

"Em," He whispers,

"Em," More loudly, so I turn and look at him.

"I won't let them so much as touch you, I swear it,"

"I wish I could believe you," I answer quietly.

Then, noise. Almost unbearable. Loud, domineering. Chanting, screaming. Stands and stands filled to the brims with Capitol, large, enhanced lips, over bright eyes, coloured eyelashes and three foot wigs. Dyed skin, flattened noses. All twisted in smiles as they see us, wave to us.

A hand grasps mine as I reach for his, sick to my stomach that all these people could want us dead yet look so happy.

"We're on the screen, smile,"

I draw my lips back in my approximation of what a smile would look like if I were actually happy and look up at the screen.

We're beautiful. Not just beautiful, radiant, shining like the stars. My dress is flaring out behind me, greens and blues and yellows and whites, all the colours of the sea sparkling from the sequins, chiffon ribbons falling from my arms, woven into my hair. A delicate, simple circlet of silver crowns me.

I hate them for it.

I hate them for killing those twelve year olds before they even get into the arena. Brandon is smiling, waving, but I know he's thinking the same thing. We are slaves. And we are outshining everyone. And they will kill us for it. Just to prove my point, the boy from one looks round, finds me, and winks. Winks for my death.

We reach the end of the ride. Great balconies of stone and marble lie before us, hung with banners and ribbons. A small stand lies to our left, filled with the richest of the Capitol population, politicians, speakers. In front, on the centre balcony, stands our President. He's young, but his hair is pure white like the rocks on our beach and he has small, snakelike eyes. His gaze falls on each and every tribute, smiling at One and Two, beaming at Brandon, and then he sees me. His smile falters, only briefly, before going onto the next tribute. I look in the screen quickly to see why.

My face is pale, pale white, and my hand, just visible, is quite clearly shaking.

I look down abruptly, hiding my hand behind the wall of the chariot as he speaks through a microphone. He saw me scared. Just another reason to hate him.

Our chariot moves again, through a small side tunnel through to where we'll be taken to our rooms. Lena and Anna are waiting with two other men, Brandon's stylists, and Martin, all beaming wildly. Gingerly, I smile back, just a little.

"Hey, Em, can I have my hand back please," a whisper comes in my ear.

His face is laughing, but his eyes are concerned as I claw my hand back from his grasp. I've left ridges in his palm, white against the red of his hand.

"Sorry," I manage to mutter before Anna hugs us both.

"You two were wonderful! The crowd adored you! Brandon, I could have sworn every girl was shouting your name" She says excitedly, but the words are nothing to us. If anything, they have the opposite effect, because Brandon's lips have gone into a straight line, along with Martin's. Anna continues to chatter at everyone but I zone her out.

"What's the matter?" I ask him quietly

"Apart from the fact we're going to die?" He returns sharply, the angry tone back in his voice.

"Yes? What aren't you telling me?" I press on, "What's the problem about people liking you?"

He's about to answer before Martin comes up to us quickly, almost running.

"That was a big evening, guys, time to rest before training, yeah?"

"No! I want to know what the hell you're keeping from me and you're going to tell me now!" I just manage to keep my voice respectably low, but both of them can hear the hysteria.

It's then I realise, I already know.

No. No. No. No.

Someone's hugging me; I've been talking out loud.

"I won't let them," He promises me.

But it's not like before. This time, protecting me means the same as leaving me with the Careers. He's promising to kill me.

That's when my world goes black.


	6. Doubts

_**Ugh, four hour car journeys are not something to look forward to...Even if it does mean seeing your brother...**_

_I run, faster than I've ever done before. I'm struggling to keep up with Brandon when suddenly the floor caves in, and we both fall, down, down into the chasm that's opened up. Then he's gone, and I'm lying on the forest again, paralysed, unable to move as the boy from One steps out from behind the tree. He sneers just like before as he takes the knife from his pack, adn even as I struggle, yell, I cannot move. Brandon isn't coming._

"_He'll never come," The boy is smiling as he leans over my body, pressing the knife upwards towards my throat, not caring about my screams. I can't move, I'm going to die. The knife presses harder, harder until it cuts my shirt, until it cuts my skin, and the pain is like nothing I've ever felt before as he drives it into my heart. His face changes, until it has blue skin, green eyelashes, and the same awful sneer as he leans down to kiss me..._

"Em!" He's shouting, "Em!"

And I'm awake again, and I manage to stop screaming. I'm shivering, clammy, my entire body is shaking as he wraps his arms around me. I can't breathe, my chest still hurts.

"Don't touch me!" I gasp, pushing him away with all the strength I can.

He stares at me from the other side of the room, his hands raised in surrender, his look cautious.

"Em," He begins, staying where he is.

Then I know him, he's Brandon. He's just Brandon.

"Oh god I'm sorry," I whisper. Tears are starting to fall into my lap. "I'm so sorry,"

He walks forward as Martin and Anna burst into the room, staring from one side to the other, to the crying me to Brandon.

"What the hell is going on?" demands Martin, glaring at me, no, not glaring, he just looks cautious, like Brandon.

"Margaret just had a nightmare," Brandon fills in the awkward pause that follows.

"The chariot ride?" I ask, trying to stem my tears as Anna flutters around getting me tissues. I'd forgotten how annoying she got.

"There weren't any cameras." Martin reassures me, but he doesn't meet my eyes.

So I look at Brandon.

He meets my gaze and answers. "Just tributes,"

"Oh god," And my tears fall thicker, "They'll think I'm weak! They'll, they'll,"

And I descend into hysteria as Martin exits the room, returning with a long needle he manages to force into my arm even as I fight him, before the darkness pulls me under again.

"_I've waited so long for this moment," The obsidian eyes lock onto mine as he hisses, "So long,"_

_The snake runs up my body before coiling at my neck, gripping, twisting as it takes the air away from my lungs. I'm drowning, gasping, clutching desperately at the snake, but no sound comes out as I writhe in agony, the fire burning my chest more and more. It doesn't end as the floor falls away, becoming the forest once more as the boy from One steps out again._

"_He'll never come,"_

_Then the knife, the pain. Then flames, higher than the Capitol stands. I'm on fire, burning, my voice unable to express my pain, the drugs holding me down as I suffer._

_I am in hell._

...

Silence fills the Training Centre as the Capitol lady talks. I can't focus, let alone listen. All the make up in the world couldn't make me pretty right now.

"At least try to look like you're listening," Brandon whispers, his lips not even moving as he speaks, looking straight at the instructor.

"Too busy waiting to die or get sold off to the highest bidder," I answer back curtly, "I wonder how much they'd pay?"

"Don't talk like that,"

"Yeah? Then what will happen instead? Cut into pieces like Martin's little girl?" I bite back

"I promised I wouldn't let that happen,"

"So what, you'd kill me yourself?"

He glances at me. "If it came to it. Wouldn't you?"

My shock keeps me silent for a moment before I realise what he's trying to say. A quick death, a clean death. A mercy, really, because neither of us, well, certainly not me, would have the chance. And the truth is, I would kill him, if he was dying, or had been captured. I'd hope he'd do the same.

Still, when my answer comes it still shocks me.

"Yes," I say quietly, and suddenly, I feel calm. The pain in my chest is diminished, just a little.

He smiles.

"Let's hope it won't come to that,"

I nod.

I go to the edible section first, while Brandon goes to the weapons, where he's joined quickly by One and Two. I move to the side of the station to hear them better.

"Glad to see you ditched the cry baby," The girl from one is saying. She's slightly shorter than the boy, but has the same pitch black hair and muscular frame.

"I'm Delia, gorgeous," And she smiles at him with her eyes fluttering.

My stomach clenches.

"I'm Deacon," the boy from One says, smiling at the girl, "I'm her twin,"

I can feel Brandon's shock mirroring my own. They both volunteered.

What kind of psychos would be okay with killing their own sibling, their own twin?

"I'm Jamie, and this is Savannah," Two says, pointing at the girl, who is obviously the youngest of them all.

"Brandon," he answers quickly, with just a bit of warmth to hopefully not make them want to kill us too soon.

"So, when'd you start Training?" asks Jamie, and I can feel the rapport developing already. Without me.

"Last year," Brandon is answering, and that's when I shut them off. It's my nightmare over again. He doesn't care.

I turn around and just manage not to yell, again when the girl from Eight sits opposite me.

"Psychos, right?" She laughs, sticking her hand out abruptly. "I'm Jen, 15"

"Margar- Mags, 16" I don't know why I told her that name, seeing as I've always hated it.

"Damn, you're older," she says in the same, easy going voice, laughing at me. I can feel the lump in my throat rising.

"So he's ditched you already? His loss," Her eyes are dancing, a mottled colour, half blue half grey.

It takes a moment, but I smile back. "Yeah, his loss,"

"So how do we start this fire anyway?" She waves her hand over the mess of sticks I've been creating.

"Not a clue, unless you count magical powers,"

"Something to do with the stone?" She points, and my cheeks flame up as I look at what I've been holding all this time. I offer it to her but she doesn't take it.

"No, you should learn," Jen says, and just like that, I know I could never kill her. How could I kill anyone here?

We spend twenty minutes arranging and flicking before we get a spark, then a fully fledged flame, and then Jen is jumping on the spot, dancing as she grabs my shoulders in glee.

"Having fun?" a new voice startles me. The boy from Seven, next to the girl.

"Hey Lake," Jen wraps her arm around his shoulder easily, "This is Mags, Mags this is Lake, and Emma, Mags's partner already went off with the Careers,"

Lake and Emma laugh, but I cut in.

"He doesn't mean it,"

They all raise their eyebrows in unison.

"He doesn't mean it?" Lake repeats, his eyebrows still raised. He's quite good looking himself.

The pain in my chest returns at the thought.

"He doesn't really like them, he thinks they're insane," I go on, "He said,"

"Right," Emma says, but it's clear they don't believe me.

"Why do you call them Careers?" I ask Jen, but Lake is the one who answers.

"Cause' they're the weirdos that actually train, like it's their job to kill kids. Plus It's a mouthful saying One and Two all the time. And Four," He looks at me.

"I never trained," I say quickly, trying to forget that Brandon did.

"Yeah, Jen convinced us. She said you smiled the other night," says Emma

More like her smiling at me.

"And you guys all made friends?"

"In the elevator. Jen lost her costume shoe cause' the lights kept flickering," Lake laughs along with Jen.

I feel sick knowing they'll most likely be dead next week and talking like they're me best friends.

"The guys from Twelve, they're Damian and Lila," Jen points over to where the emaciated ones from Twelve are. "They're sixteen,"

It's hard for my mouth not to fall open.

"Anyway, Damian just focuses on his next meal, but Lila's smart,"

I nod, trying to remember this.

Next she points to the hanging ropes, where five people stand. "Thats Zelda, the short one with glasses, she's from three, I don't know the boy. Five are Norma and Hyden, and Six are Eve and Wright. The girl from Nine is called Nora, but I don't know any of the other,"

"The elevator?" I ask jokingly, trying not to stare at the two twelve year olds. Eve and Wright. Five are trying to show them how to climb.

"I re watched the Reapings. Yours was pretty interesting, what with the gorgeous guy and all," Jen smiles, and I can sense they're all ready to completely storm into Brandon.

"He really doesn't care about them, guys," I try to say, but they've already lost their attention, chattering on something else.

Does he not care? Didn't he promise to kill me?

No. He hates them. I know he does.

**Read and Review please?**


	7. Tomorrow

I don't speak to Brandon when we get back to the apartment, instead storming off into my room. Childish, I know. Now I'm in my room I don't actually know what to do. I have no possessions to speak off, no ornaments, just the velvet layered bed and clock. I sit down at the end of the bed, twirling my fingers. Maybe I should apologize.

The door slams open.

"What the hell is this all about?" Martin shouts, his face inches from mine. His breath smells of whisky and liquor and something else. I don't answer, but I can feel my body shaking. As if my inaction displeases him, he grabs me by the neck and slams me against the wall.

Now the others have rushed into the room. Anna looks shocked, Lena looks worried, and I don't get time to analyse Brandon before Martin starts up again.

"Listen." He spits in my face, "You listen, he's your only shot in that arena so if I were you I wouldn't piss him off, or you will end up like the girl from last year. Either stick with him, or get ready to die. Got it?"

I nod shakily.

"Let. Go."

Martin releases my neck and I slide down the wall about six inches, gasping for air. Anna is the one to grab my arm and take me to their side of the room. Brandon makes to turn away, but at the last moment stops and swivels, punching Martin straight on his jaw and sending him sprawling onto the ground. Then he just walks out.

I think about walking out after him, but now our Avoxes have assembled by the door and Anna is fussing over the deep red marks that are now spreading around my neck. I let them led me down the hall to our prep room so they can offer me ice, a pill that should help. I let them worry for me about the interview tonight, the Games in just a day. I let them worry about the obvious fact that I am going to die. Then, when they are finished, I make my way back to my room, past the now passed out Martin in the sitting room. I'm about to turn in when I catch sight of someone walking down the corridor to where the lifts are.

I follow him, because I know who he is, and I follow him as we reach the lifts, as he takes us up to a higher floor, as he sits by a window in a foyer.

"Are you going to come over or stay behind that ridiculous pot?" His voice says quietly, staring out to the city where they're all cheering, banners flying.

"Scared about the interview?"

I sit down and shake my head. "No."

"Scared about the Games? About dying?"

"No."

He looks at me. "Then what the hell are you scared of?"

"Being alone in there."

He laughs. "Of course you'll be alone. One winner, right?"

"But you'll have the Careers,"

"The Careers?"

"One and Two." I answer briskly, thinking that of course he doesn't know, he was with them.

"Who said I was with them?"

"You left me,"

"Listen to yourself! I didn't leave you! Would you rather they hated us"

"They don't hate us, just me," I accuse, trying not to clench my teeth. "They hate me. They'll kill me."

"We've been through this-"

"Only one winner, right?" I echo sadly. I stand up. "It doesn't matter,"

"It does matter," He retorts, but I'm not angry.

"Thanks for earlier. I'll see you at the interviews, Odair boy,"

"Em-"

"No point Odair," I call back as I make my way downstairs again to get pretty.

"Lovely," Lena stand back to admire the effect. "Though we can't cover it all up, I'm afraid," She glares at Martin, who's sitting in the corner, sipping another glass of water to sober up.

Martin only grunts in reply, but at least he looks slightly guilty when the purple tinges in my neck turn to look at him.

"Matches the dress I suppose," I smile sweetly.

"Since when was white purple?" Anna trills, giggling again.

I roll my eyes.

It's much the same as my last dress, chiffon, floaty, but now pure white, down to the floor with a small train. Like a wedding gown.

"Can I be the groom?" Brandon pokes his head in, "We're meant to be lining up now."

I nod and follow him out, behind One, Two, Three. The boy from One smiles when he sees me. Deacon. I hate his smiled.

"Beautiful as ever Em," He says slowly, looking at Brandon before turning around. I don't think he gets the whisper of 'they'll love her' after.

"You told him my name?"

"Trying to make friends." Brandon looks down for a moment. "You don't like him?"

"How could I? Do you?"

"I don't know. How can you want him dead as soon as possible?"

"I don't know."

The man has pure white hair, just like the President, and we spend our five minutes talking about how our clothes match and how pretty I look. I look like a total airhead. Brandon would be much better than me, making them laugh, blowing them kisses, acting like he actually cared, but he's on after. I look over to him and nearly miss what the guy is asking me.

"So do you and Brandon get on well?" he casts a look out to the audience and winks.

"He's alright. Beautiful, isn't he?" I laugh, stupidly high, like Anna.

"Oh we know, don't we ladies?" The audience roars in response.

"Hasn't made any promises, has he?" The interviewer widens his eyes and puts his hand just below his heart.

I smile briefly.

"Just one." I look over to where One are sitting and lock my gaze with Deacon. "Can't say what, though,"

"Of course," the interviewer pauses before holding my hand up and shouting out my name again. I go to sit down elegantly back beside Brandon as he gets ready for his turn.

"Maybe one day those bruises will be because of me," Deacon whispers smoothly. I keep my smile on my face as, just like I knew he would, Brandon wins over everyone.

"Maybe I'll make him watch," Deacon laughs. "Tomorrow, Em."

The knot in my stomach tightens, but I carry on smiling. Tomorrow.

**Right, I'll try and update as soon as I can, but right now I have Biology…**


	8. Running Miles

**First off, if any of you guys haven't heard of these guys called Two Steps to Hell, check them out, they're like the soundtrack to every trailer ever made, and they are EPIC. So take five minutes, type in heart of courage into YouTube, and feel like you control the world.**

**Okay... now onto the story...**

Tap tap tap. My fingers are going crazy on the bedsheets. In less than nine hours, I could be dead.

Dead. My mind will no longer think, process, feel. All my life will be gone, just like that. Like it meant nothing to begin with, because no one will bother to remember it when it's gone.

A quiet stillness comes over me.

In my world, I'm already dead, because there is no life in my world. Capitol took it when they started the Games.

Dangerous thoughts.

Tap, tap, tap.

I jump up and run as hard as I can on the spot, waving my arms wildly, shaking my hair back, forcing myself to run faster, my feet pounding the ground almost painfully. I stop after only a minute, breathless, almost doubled over, then I jump back onto the velvet layered bed, then jumping off again and rolling from the impact over to the far wall, before running on the spot again. I only get to thirty seconds this time. Well and truly out of breath, I slump against the smooth duck egg painted plaster, almost banging my head as I let it drop back to rest, my chest heaving from the exertion.

The door opens, and he closes it gently before sliding down beside me.

"I don't want to die," He says, very calmly as he stares straight ahead.

"I don't want to die Em,"

"If either of us could stand a chance at winning, I'd bet my life on you," I whisper, letting my head slip sideways onto his shoulder.

"Why were you running just then?" He asks me. "Bit late to train, huh,"

I don't know how to feel as I reply.

"Just for one moment I wanted to feel alive, like I was there, and I was moving and breathing and thinking."

"Like they couldn't touch you," Brandon surmises, slouching further down the wall until he's almost lying flat down on the carpet.

I look down at him. "I don't want to die either,"

He reaches his hand up and touches my face, running his finger around my jawline. Then he leans up and kisses me, gently, sweetly. I let him kiss me for just a moment before I push him away. His hurt expression finds mine in the dark of my room.

"Did I do something wrong?"

I shake my head. "The opposite. But I don't want to be confused about each other. Not before-"

"Why not be confused now and bury it tomorrow?" He interrupts, raising his eyebrows.

"I couldn't live with that,"

He slouches back down. "Worth a try I guess."

I make a half smile and slouch down next to him.

"So what are we going to do?"

Brandon stares up for a moment before turning his head to face me.

"Run, I guess. If I don't join the Careers they'll come after us at the Bloodbath. Best not stick around."

"You'll stay with me?" I ask him, feeling a strange feeling in my chest, beating with my heart.

"Course I will," He answers, "What d'you take me for, some sadist that kills their own twin?"

"What about Jen? And the others?"

I can see his jaw clenching briefly, nervously."We can't all win, Em"

"What do we say to that?" I whisper.

"Nothing left to say. We already know." Comes his reply, and I fall into his arms easily as we accept how horrified at ourselves we are.

We might as well be dead.

...

The launch room is fairly small. It has a wire rack with a zipped, sealed clothes bag, a built in bench with the wall, and in the centre of the room, a metal plate surround by glass.

My hands are twirling again as I sit on the bench, waiting. Anna and Martin were quiet for once this morning. Anna told me to wear my hair up and Martin didn't say a word, only nodded and turned away. I think it was better that way. Hugging us, saying goodbye. It would have only made it more real.

Lena comes in.

"Let's get you ready then." Is all she says, but I feel her comfort as she takes my clothes away, gently opening the clothes bag, arranging my hair in a knot at the base of my neck. Her fingers are gentle as she helps me dress in the garments. Khaki coloured, quarter length trousers and stiff, cloth like ankle boots with long laces. A sleeveless tank top that hugs my waist and stomach. A loose, plastic like jacket that has zips under the arms as well as at the front.

She hands me something gold.

"Brandon said it was your token," she explains.

I gloss over the fact that Brandon was looking through my things. It's my locket. A simple gold oval with vines embossing the top, not very heavy, not very large. Opening it, it doesn't even contain anything.

"Did you take the picture out?" Lena asks

"I never had one to put in," I answer, "I just kept it for when I would, I suppose,"

"Like a promise, huh," Lena says, talking to herself more than me.

I guess. I wonder why Brandon said this was my token. It's not valuable, it obviously can't be used as a weapon. The only thing it has going for it is that it can't be used yet; it's waiting for a future.

A future.

Some future.

"The clothes, Lena?"

"Expect warmth at day, cold at night," Lena replies. I nod. Not too bad, I suppose.

"Tributes must enter the holding area now," a tinny, high voice echoes through the room.

I start shaking in response, and I can taste blood filling my mouth as I gnaw on my cheek. Lena pulls me into a hug. My lip is quivering, but she draws back.

"Don't cry. Don't let them have even one tear," She tells me, gripping my shoulders and looking straight into my eyes. She embraces me once more, and then we both know it's time.

My legs feel like water as I walk over onto the plate, trying to keep still. I've always been scared of the plates that blow up. My neck is tense and I only manage a last and at Lena before the plate moves and my head spins around at the closing glass.

Bright light is all around me as my eyes adjust.

60...59...58...

Brandon is two to my right. He catches my eye straight away and we simply look at each other for a moment. One are opposite Brandon, Two are over to my left. Jen is directly opposite me. Seven, Lake and Emma, are looking at me. I realise they're trying to see if I'll be with them. Almost imperceptibly, I shake my head, looking over to Brandon to emphasize my point.

They nod in return. Emma looks disappointed, but Lake's mouth twitches up a little. No hard feelings, right.

30...29...28...

My stomach is churning as I look around me. Desert and sand stretch for a while. The golden horn of the Cornucopia lies at our centre. Three O'clock from where I stand in a huge, circular structure. Latticed, punched with holes, four stories, I can see through the bottom level to the round centre courtyard. I think of my schooling and remember the word. Coliseum.

To my left is practically a wasteland, flat ground for a few miles, before sand dunes. There's some shrubbery, but it's hard to tell if there'd be any cover. Or water. The coliseum, however, would be a complete labyrinth, with no guarantee of a prize beyond.

Brandon tilts his head left, and I nod. The wasteland is where the others will avoid, so they can buy us time while we get far enough away.

10...9...8...

I think of my mother. My father. The boy from the year above that kissed me last year. I think of Brandon's kiss last night and the feeling in my heart. I think of the feeling when I jumped from my bed and tried to feel alive.

3...2...3...

My legs drop from under me as I half collapse into a run, straight to my left. I've never been very fast, and the girl from Two blocks my way. Savannah. She smiles, and she's already wielding a thin, curved knife. She lets out a yell as she hurls herself towards me, and I feel my body rolling right in an effort to live. I hear one, short scream.

She's dead.

The boy from Twelve stands behind her with a rock, his eyes roving around. The girl, I realise, is already dead. He raises the rock in slow motion as his side is pierced by the silver gilded arrow.

Brandon's hand yanks on mine as he forces me to run, run forward, run away. I'm running out of breath already but he pulls me on, forcing me to be faster. We run and run and I feel like my lungs are collapsing but still he pulls me on. His hand never leaves me as we leave the scene behind.

I look back only once, and just like we thought, the others went for the Coliseum. We have time.

Still, another hour before he lets us stop.

I drop to the ground like a stone, gasping for air, burned, exhausted, and now unbearably hot.

"Are you hurt?" He asks me finally, and I shake my head.

"I got us a pack, at least," Brandon slips the black rucksack from his shoulder.

We get a pot of strong smelling cream, bandages, a square sheet of dark cloth, and a hand sized bottle of water, filled. We take turns sipping from it, but we both stop at halfway through the bottle. It's unlikely they'd let us die from dehydration in this landscape, there must be water somewhere, but you never know in the games.

The cannons start to boom. Two, four, six,eight. Nine.

Fifteen left to play.

"We have to get moving again, find some sort of shelter" Brandon says. My entire body screams in weary protest as I stand up, nodding.

His arms wrap around me.

"We're going to make it," He whispers, and we start to run again.

**Thanks for reading! Update should be soon, but I'm going away next weekend so be warned... Reviews are welcome... *hint. Hint.**


	9. The End's Beginning

**I seem to have made a habit of writing new chapters at quarter to midnight... While listening to Trading Yesterday for the twenty millionth time... There is officially no hope for me. **

**Did I mention I loved Trading Yesterday? **

I have never ached so much in my whole life when we finally stop running for the night. After nearly two hours we reached shrubbery, around which were tiny streams and pools of fresh water, but still no shelter. We had lost sight of the Cornucopia by then completely, but we still continued for the rest of the afternoon and a little into the evening before we found proper shelter. We must have been near the outskirts, because at the edge of the wasteland it turned into huge sand dunes, and the rocky terrain, until you came to the foot of a mountain, complete with multiple valleys and caves. Another maze to lose ourselves in. We climbed as far as we dared without ropes in the second valley, and found a cave that looked directly over the desert, in the hopes that we would see predators without turning into prey ourselves.

Brandon caught little fish from the pools, but we haven't eaten them yet because we haven't had time to make a vent. At this rate, we'll end up eating them raw.

Both of us are silent. Brandon fiddles with the pack, unpacking and repacking methodically, all except for the square of cloth, which I have lain out on the dusty rocky floor, in vain, because it does nothing to protect us from the harsh lumps and bumps beneath.

Waiting. Waiting.

Savannah's head crumples as she falls. I can see the blood gushing out. I can feel her blood spattering onto me as the boy raises the rock again. The arrow shoots into his flesh, too quick for him to even manage a yell of pain as he collapses onto the ground.

I blink away the ghosts.

"Do you want to talk?" Brandon finally says, catching my eye at last.

"You want to talk now?" I can't raise a smile when I answer, instead focussing on drawing patterns in the dust. "What about earlier when I wiped her blood off my face?"

"I needed time to-," Brandon pauses, aware that we must be being watched by Capitol, "I needed time to think. Clear my head, work out strategies,"

I nod. "Right. Strategies."

Sound startles us both as it blares out from all around us. Time for the anthem. In silent consent, both of us edge a little closer to the cave's mouth so we can see the sky illuminated with faces.

Savannah is first to appear.

The boy from Three.

"All the other Careers made it, then," Brandon whispers. I only nod in response, my stomach clenching as usual when I think of Deacon.

Norma from Five.

Wright from Six. I stare at his tiny face. Twelve. Eve's face doesn't show. She's alive, at least for now.

Emma and Lake have made it. So has the boy from Eight.

Then her face flashes up and I can feel Brandon pressing his hand over my mouth to stop the screaming.

Jen is dead.

For a second I get to see her short blonde hair, her blue grey eyes.

I can't see the sky anymore.

I see her dancing in the Training Centre when we made a flame. I see Lake laughing when he thought of meeting her in the elevator. I see the first time she smiled at me at the Parade, confident, fearless.

Now she's gone.

Suddenly it all seems very important to remember the exact way her cheeks gained dimples when she smiled, the way one lock of her hair didn't lie in the right way. The way she called Brandon gorgeous as if she knew exactly what I was thinking. The way I thought we might have been friends, and to her, we already were.

I've managed to stop screaming. I wrench myself from Brandon's grip and lie by the back of the cave, foetal like, turned towards the rocky wall. I no longer care if I die. What beauty there was left is gone already. I'm no longer pretty. I just feel sullied. I want to cry, but for some reason my eyes won't make the tears, they simply stare no matter how much I try to shut them. I can't even speak. I'm crippled.

She spins round and round before my eyes, still laughing, dragging me around with her in her glee.

"Em,"

I ignore the soft voice and focus back on Jen, burning brighter than ever, as if she's a flame, flickering and radiant.

"Do you want to talk?"

Still the tears don't come, but I register anger. At Brandon. At Deacon. At Jen for dying. At Capitol.

I hate them all.

His arms pull me upright.

"We've got to focus. Em. Em." He forces my face to turn into his, trying to find my eyes. "We can't think about it now."

"Both from Nine are gone too, so is the boy from twelve and the girl from Ten," He tries to continue. I don't answer.

"Em, you're scaring me, please," Brandon's voice gains a tone of desperation. "Please, come back to me,"

His hands frame my face, and I think he's considering slapping me to try to make me respond. He kisses me instead.

Just for a moment, his face replaces hers.

The tears still don't come, but I manage to speak.

"Can I sleep?" I ask him haltingly, biting the inside of my cheek.

He glances outside the cave.

"A couple of hours, then we'll work out what to do,"

Slowly, I lay myself back down, my skin sore. I feel sick. Sick. And alone. I reach out through the darkness for Brandon's hand, and pull, gently at first, and then my fingernails dig into his hand as fear takes over.

"Em, it's alright," He says quickly, "Em-"

I relax my grip a little.

"I don't want to die," I manage to get out at last, lumps forming in my throat as I try to speak.

He tucks my arm into his. "Sleep, Em,"

His breathing on the back of my neck calms me as my eyes close.

_Mine. Mine. Mine._

"_Why didn't you join us?" she accuses, pointing her long finger at me. "You could have joined us, you could have helped me,"_

_I try to protest but I cannot speak. Savannah smiles as she and Jen link arms, both holding knives. Frozen to the spot, I see little Wright tiptoeing behind them, the boy from Twelve holding his hand._

"_It hurt," Jen whispers, as they drive the knives into me._

**...**

**Half midnight... Why I do this I have no idea...**

_**All I know, all I know is that the end is beginning, who I am, from the start, take me home to my heart, let me go and I will run, I will not be silent all this time spent in vain, wasted years, wasted gain, all is lost, hope remains, and this war's not over there's a light, there's a sun, taking all shattered ones, to the place we belong, and his love will conquer all...**_

_**Trading Yesterday**_

**I am sorta obsessed...**

**3**


	10. Searching

**Finally got round to updating...**

"Wake up," someone whispers. "Em, wake up,"

Brandon's face looms above mine.

"We should get moving again,"

I shake my head. "We're safe here, aren't we? Why not wait until the numbers go down more?"

Brandon looks uncertain.

"We're not exposed, we're high up, this is a good place," I continue, when all I want to do is sleep again.

"And we're also trapped," Brandon points out, "If we get sprung here we have no place to go,"

I shiver. It's still not fully daytime, and like Lena said, it's freezing.

"When did you wake up?"

"About an hour ago. Another cannon."

"A Career?" I ask hopefully, thinking of Deacon.

"It's too early for them to have turned on themselves. It was distant though. They're probably still at the Coliseum, so that's something anyway,"

Brandon wrings his hands impatiently and stands up.

"Look, I can't just sit here and wait for us to die. I need to _do _something." He glares at me. "Can you please, say _something_ vaguely useful?"

"Like what," I reply, stung and glaring back at him.

"Something to convince me I'm not just going to walk out and do this by myself." He tries not to yell. He sighs and looks down.

"I want to live, Em."

"No really? We all want to live," Frustration creeps in. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"No, why would there be?"

"I don't know, why don't you tell me?"

"Stop being so melodramatic!"

"_I'm _being melodramatic?"

A cannon booms.

Both of us look towards the mouth of the cave.

"That was closer than before," Brandon says quickly.

I nod and together we start packing things up.

"Pass me the piece of cloth," I say, gathering up a couple of the fish we haven't eaten yet.

"Why?"

"Because if we get split up, or jumped on and we have to run we don't want all our stuff in one basket," I snatch up the cloth when he fails to give it to me, my fingers working fast to knot it into a rough bag. "Better to not starve when we're trying to find the other. Better not to wish we hadn't done this when our pack floats away down a waterfall."

"What waterfall?" Brandon raises his eyebrows, but he throws me a couple of bandages, one with a fingerful of cream wrapped inside.

I raise my own eyes at the bandage wrapped cream. "You really think-"

"Better than nothing, right?" Brandon smirks as he throws my own line back at me. I make a face at him.

By silent assent we both move to the mouth of the cave and peer out from the side walls, ready to jump back if needs be.

"Nothing." I breathe out, moving into the middle of the mouth.

Something whooshes past my head as Brandon hisses "Get _back,_", yanking on my arm to drag me out of view.

"Girl from Three and both from Eleven," Brandon fills in, staring around the cave that leads to nowhere.

"See, this is exactly why we shouldn't have stayed here," He bites out at me as he starts feeling the walls.

"What do we do?" I ask quietly, trying hard not to panic.

"Be thankful it's not the Careers," Brandon stops. "What do you know about them?"

"Nothing about Eleven." I think back to the Training Centre.

"Em, we're running out of time," Brandon's almost tilting on the spot.

"They said Nora was smart. That's it!"

"That's it?"

"Yes!" a sob escapes me.

"Stop it. Stop it!" Brandon shakes my shoulders. His forehead creases as he thinks.

"I'll run out first and try to lead them off, you wait twenty seconds then you start running. Keep running and we try to meet by that shelf in the first valley. If neither of us are there after ten minutes, we break off,"

"Em. Em, have you got that, I need to run now,"

"I'm going to die,"

"Shut up Em you're not going to die, what did I tell you." Brandon suddenly slaps me hard. "Em, what did I tell you?"

"I wait twenty seconds," I try to catch my breath a little.

"What then?" Brandon demands.

"We meet by the shelf and wait ten minutes before breaking off," My words mingle but it's enough to satisfy him.

He turns, then stops and pulls me into him fiercely.

"You're going to make it." He says, and then he pulls back, looks into my eyes, and starts to run. I watch from the side as he jumps the first ledge and slides down the embankment. Silver arrows chase him.

20...19...18...

I'm losing sight of him, but I see the boy from Eleven and Nora break from their spots and run after him.

15...14...13...

Move Em. Move.

The girl from Eleven still hasn't broken her place, the boy and Nora have gone left, hidden by rushes and crude curves of dusty rock.

3...2...1...

My legs feel locked. I can hear my heart beating, fast, loud.

Move. Move.

For God's sake MOVE.

I dart from behind the wall and drop straight down, falling from the ledge like Brandon, but she's expecting it and I bite back a yell of pain as the arrow connects with my raised arm. Adrenaline courses through me. I look around quickly, and see her shadow to my right as I roll away, breaking the arrow shaft and yanking the other end out, a small dagger with blood and small clumps of my flesh on the barbs. My blood drips into the dust, but I've no time.

I run hard, twisting and turning through the undergrowth, but I know it's hopeless. Yanking the arrow out only means more blood to follow. I curse at my stupidity.

But I'm ahead of her. Knowing I only have seconds, I dart behind the bush to my right and crouch, arrow spike in my hand, ready.

Again I hear my heartbeat as her pounding footsteps approach.

3...2...1...

I stand up yelling and smash my fist into the side of her neck, the arrow piercing her skin with my blow. She makes a horrible gargling sound as her hair become stained with blood and she collapses, and I drop down with her. She's still alive, gulping for air as the blood fills her windpipe, my arrow, my hand still connected to her.

She mouths a word. Once. Twice.

Please.

I clench my other hand, my left hand, numb from losing blood over her nose and mouth, cutting of her remaining air. It only takes another minute after that, her hand slackening over mine until she's holding it, not trying to remove it. Then she's gone.

I rip out one of the bandaged from the cloth back and tie it hard against the top of my left arm, above and around tightly as the first layer soaks with blood, then the second layer, before it lessens slightly. My head is dizzy. I think of the time that has passed. I had ten minutes to reach the valley. How much left?

Fumbling, I turn the girl over and pull her bow from her back with the remaining four arrows. She also has two knives and a wrap of dry meat. The cannon booms for her.

I clear out, my ankles going over on themselves as I stumble and trip to the meet point. I shuffle into a crevice in the rock, because he's not there yet. I have no way of knowing which side of the ten minutes I am.

I count silently, two minutes. Three. Four. I stop at eight. My face screws up as I double over, my head pressed to my knees. My leggings are ripped and I'm covered in dust. My hair falls over my shoulders, though I'm sure the cameras are on me. Two more cannons boom.

Brandon? Or the two pursuers? I have no way of knowing. I know what he would say. Run now, and don't look back. I think of Martin, who must know the truth.

I let myself hope a little as I turn my face upwards.

"Is he alive?" I breathe out.

I look for the silver parachute, hoping against all hopes.

One minute. Two.

I'm starting to give up hope. Squashing it down and burying it. And to think only this morning-

It drifts slowly from the sky. Caught in the breeze, the fabric billowing wildly as it forces its way down to me.

I rip the tin open.

Inside is a tiny toy soldier.

A survivor? Or a victim? Or danger?

I don't know.

I drop into the dust as the stone falls. It's too late to scramble up as the pair drop before me, their silhouettes blocking out the sun.

"Left you again, huh?" Lake's easy voice calls out.

I fall back, breathing hard. Emma offers me an arm.

"Allies now?" She asks me.

I nod.

"Do you know who-"

"The first two cannons were the boy from Eight and the boy from Ten. Then the girl from Three and the girl from Eleven. We don't know who the last cannon was." Lake fills in.

The boy from Eleven? Or Brandon?

The question catches in my throat.

"What happened to Jen?"

"We were going to meet and run at the Cornucopia-" Emma starts.

"She didn't get to us in time. Deacon slit her throat." Lake finishes, staring at me. "We had to run after that. We didn't go for the Coliseum like the others because we figured we could meet with you guys,"

Something in his voice and Emma's gaze makes me think there's something else, but I don't press him.

"So how many left?"

"With the four today? Nine. The Careers, you and maybe Brandon, Eve from Six, me and Emma and the girl from Twelve," Emma answers.

"Time for a little revenge?" Lake asks, his eyes dancing.

"No." I answer. "I need to find him."

**See this box? You get a nice message if you fill it in and review...**

**These tribute deaths are getting confusing. I think I need a list.**

**Until next time...**


	11. Whose Side Are You On

**Watching Merlin videos... Seriously one of the most underrated yet brilliant tv shows ever. And one of the best bromances. In the history of them all.**

'**Describe dollophead'**

'**In two words?'**

'**yeah'**

'**Prince Arthur.'**

**XD**

My arm is caked with dried blood, and the bandage is stiff against my healing skin, ripping and tearing with every movement. Lake walks ahead of both of us, Emma slightly behind, and me bringing up the rear. First to get killed if we're attacked from behind.

"Remind me why we're wasting time trying to find someone who could be dead?" Lake calls back. He's irritable after walking all day in the dunes, and I've found that he has a short fuse. Emma glances back and rolls her eyes, pulling a face. Her skin is dry and her mouth seems stretched when she smiles. We thought the dunes led in two ways, the Coliseum, and the valleys, but it appears there was a third way, and we've got lost in it. Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I can see Four.

"He's a good fighter," Is my best answer. I could have said he was my ally, but allies are expendable here. I could have said he was my friend, but that leaves me weak.

Lake snorts and strides out a few paces more.

"And he's gorgeous," Emma throws in.

"Shut. Up. "Suddenly, Lake is facing her, glaring into her eyes, his body quivering. Tension creeps into the space between us, until he breaks his gaze and falls back, smiling a little, but warily.

"Jus' kidding," he laughs, swivelling around with an easy grace. "But if he is still alive, he's either alone, or with the Careers,"

"Why would he be with the Careers?" I ask, "I told you, he doesn't even like them,"

"Because there were two cannons, then three when you killed the girl. There's barely any of us left now, it's been a short year, three cannons would have drawn the Careers like a shot, and then it's join or die." Lake continues, his words easy to catch on the wind.

My heart sinks.

"We'll find out in the evening anyway. Then we can make our move," Emma smiles sympathetically, slowing her pace until she's in step with me. Lake carries on ahead, as ever.

"How's your arm?" She asks, dropping her tone to a soft murmur. She has freckles on her nose, up close like this.

My arm? Hell. Most would be after having an arrow embedded in them.

"It's better than it was," I reply, offering a taut smile in response, but it must look like a grimace. We didn't come across the pools again, so there's still dried blood over my face. The girl's blood. I still don't know her name. I wonder if I ever will. The odds say I won't, after all. That and Deacon.

Emma looks ahead, not saying anything, but she chews her lip as she walks, dry and cracked though they already are. Her hair is a funny colour, almost red, but pale, pale, so it's more of a blonde colour.

"You know, Jen didn't just die the way Lake said," She rushes out suddenly, looking at me. Grey eyes.

I raise my eyebrows. "No?"

I had already suspected this.

"She did, her throat was, Deacon did kill her," Emma's voice shakes a little as she speaks, but it might just be because she talks so quickly, "But she did reach us. We _were _going for the Coliseum, but Jen saw you guys run and thought we should go after you. Lake disagreed, and we saw Savannah die, but before we could decide the Careers jumped us. Me and Lake managed to run, but Deacon caught Jen. We had to run for the valleys then to avoid them, but-"

"You gave them more bait for when they killed the guys at the Coliseum," I finish. "Why wouldn't Lake want to tell me that?"

Emma shrugs her shoulders quickly. "I don't know. Maybe he was embarrassed he wanted to run for the Coliseum. Maybe he thinks if he hadn't done that we wouldn't have spent time around and Jen would have made it."

I shrug my own shoulders. "Maybe,"

"You girls keeping up?" Lake shouts back.

I run up, breathing hard as my arm stings. "We shouldn't be shouting so much,"

"There's no one around, paranoid," Lake rolls his eyes.

"How d'you know?" I retort, glaring at him. "For all you know they could be behind the next dune,"

Lake pretends to look shocked, before creeping up to the top of the next dune. He pulls a mock scared face, before peering over the top. Suddenly, he yells and falls back, clutching his chest, before collapsing onto his front. I hang back, teetering, but Emma runs to turn him over. His laughing face meets hers.

"Got ya!" He laughs, "Oooh, ooh I'm dead."

Emma sits back, her face a picture, but I can only find myself frustrated. And sad.

"Not funny," I shoot down at him before I walk straight past and over the top myself.

"Lighten up Mags," He calls after me, rolling himself up onto his feet again and brushing off Emma's attempts to help him.

I don't respond.

"We're lost." I say quietly, standing still at last. Emma and Lake catch up.

"We're lost."

I turn around to face them, and I can feel the stupid tears welling up, threatening to spill. "How are we going to find him if we're _lost_?"

"Now who's shouting," Lake sighs, sitting down again cross legged. Emma follows suit, and then I fall down too.

"Look, why don't we wait for the anthem, and then draw straws on who gets to be food," says Emma, drawing our attention again. Lake nods.

I roll my pack from my back and search through it, finding the dried meat and breaking it into three small strips for each of us. Lake brings out their own supply of water, and we each take about half a bottle before settling to gnaw on the meat. Emma gets up after a while to spread out the dark sheets of cloth she and Lake have onto the sand, weighing them down with stones she had in her bag in case of an old fashioned fight. The three of us lay back, but I turn my back to them and stare up as the sky darkens.

I think of Jen. The way she danced in the Training centre when she first met me, when I saw how her eyes were mottled, not a true colour either way. I wonder if it hurt when she died. The tears threaten to spring again, but I stop them.

It seems like hours before the sky is black enough, when really it can't have been very long at all. The three of us turn expectantly to the sky, waiting. I start to wonder how Emma and Lake knew all about the others who had died.

The faces flash in the sky.

The girl from Three. Zelda.

The boy from Eight.

The boy from Ten.

The girl and boy from Eleven.

The girl from Twelve.

"We can't have heard the last cannon from this far away," Emma says as the sky fades again.

I allow myself to smile properly.

He's alive.

He's alive.

"We should sleep. We'll catch up in the morning. I vote we go to the Coliseum. It's where everyone else will go. We want to end this." Lake states, nodding at Emma at the end and giving me a half smile.

We all lie back.

It's late, and I'm drowsy, and happy, so I can't be sure if it's my mind or my ears hearing Lake whisper again.

"Tomorrow, Em."

Brandon called me Em. I wonder which Lake meant. But I'm tired, and I fall asleep, clutching my instrument closer.

**This first games is taking a LOT longer than I thought it would... I think there's about two or three left of her actual Games, and then the real fun begins ;)**

**OH Brandon... :'(...Sometimes I hate myself...**


End file.
